Beautiful
by WeasleyWoman05
Summary: Ron reflects on the love of his life. Pure fluff and RHr all the way.


Title: Beautiful

Summary: Ron reflects on the love of his life. Pure fluff and R/Hr all the way.

Rating: K

Pairing: R/Hr

Disclaimer: They aren't mine. I just like to play. JK is awesome.

Author's Notes: Okay, this is my first completed fic and I'm just a bit nervous about posting. Constructive criticism will be welcomed with open arms. Flames will be ignored and used to keep my merrymaking bonfire going (gotta keep those elves happy). :-) Hope you enjoy it!

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She's at it again. Doing her "I'm the smartest girl in the world because I read every book I can find" routine. But I wouldn't have it any other way. She looks so beautiful standing at the front of the room, spouting off some random fact about kelpies, that I can't help but fall in love with her all over again.

I think it happened for the first time when we were 12. Oh, it may have taken me awhile to realize it, but I eventually pulled my head out of the sand. But looking back, that's when I began to see her as less of a pest and more of a friend. When she suggested making the Polyjuice potion to help us sneak into the Slytherin common room, my respect for her grew in leaps and bounds. I mean, it was a bloody brilliant idea! But at that time she was still just a friend, at least to my non-hormone influenced, pre-adolescent body.

By the time we started 4th year though, I had begun noticing that something was different about her—I just couldn't put my finger on it. And then my brilliant outburst about her being a girl happened. As I think about it now, I'm surprised that my face didn't turn red with embarrassment; after I said it I certainly wanted the floor to open up and swallow me.

And then she showed up to the Yule Ball on _his_ arm and I experienced my first taste of jealousy over her. Taking my aggression out on my souvenir from the Quidditch World Cup did nothing to dim the feelings of betrayal swirling inside me. Although I didn't recognize the emotion at the time, seeing that she could look at another guy was what hurt me the most.

But like the stupid boy I was, I had to accuse her of consorting with the enemy—Harry should have been who we were loyal to, not his competition in the tournament I reasoned. (I would have said anything at that point to ignore the switch that had been flipped inside my head.) Needless to say, as soon as those words left my mouth I knew it was the wrong thing to bring up at that particular moment. But I was still reeling from the discovery that one of my best friends was someone that I had never really seen before.

I had never really taken the time to see her. She was just Hermione. Brainy, bossy…beautiful Hermione. And she really was. Her compassion for others and her need to right wrongs only added to her beauty. Those qualities seemed to light her from within, adding a radiance to her that I was content to bask in. That still contents me after all these years.

The sound of chairs scraping over the floor jars me out of my musing and brings my attention back to the present. I look to the front of the room to find my brilliant wife surrounded by a few eager students who are firing questions at her. I can't help the grin that spreads over my lips as she shares her knowledge. It's a beautiful thing to see. Her whole face transforms as she gestures wildly to make her point. She glances up in the middle of an explanation and notices me in the back of the room. Turning her attention back to her students, she quickly finishes her thought and then begins gathering up her things, a subtle signal that the rest of the conversation will have to wait until next class.

I wait silently as she makes her way toward me, watching every graceful movement of her confident stride. That confidence that wasn't always noticeable, but still there all the same. She had to have it to put up with Harry and me for so long. She stops in front of me, waiting for an explanation. I say nothing and open my arms, silently encouraging her to step into them—an invitation that she accepts with an exasperated expression on her face.

"What are you doing here Ron?" she asks as I fold her into my embrace and rest my chin on the top of her head. "Are the kids alright?"

"The kids are fine. They're probably driving their Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry crazy by now," I say. "I thought it might be nice for the two of us to go out to dinner alone for a change."

And as she looks up and graces me with one of her gorgeous smiles, I know in my heart that this woman is the reason I exist. And I couldn't be more grateful for the course my life has taken because it led me to where I was supposed to be. It led me to her.


End file.
